


The wrong kind of attention

by KinkySnake



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Anal Sex, Dacryphilia, Deflowering, Dirty Talk, Drunk Sex, First Time, Forced Orgasm, Humiliation, M/M, No Underage Sex, Painful Sex, Rough Sex, Sadism, Slut Shaming, Touch-Starved, Zhao (Avatar) Is An Asshole, Zhao is a creep, but zhao has been interested since some time, scar kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-17
Updated: 2020-11-17
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:42:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27603664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KinkySnake/pseuds/KinkySnake
Summary: Since he saw Prince Zuko getting burned by his father, he can’t tame his obsession for the boy. He wants to see him begging again.
Relationships: Zhao/Zuko (Avatar)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 165





	The wrong kind of attention

**Author's Note:**

> Zuko is eighteen in this.   
> Doesn't stop me from being mean to him though.   
> No beta, english is not my first language.   
> Enjoy !
> 
> This fic alternates between Zhao and Zuko's point of view, I tried to make it clear with space between the paragraphs, but you'll tell me if it works or not !

The prince is shouting again, arguing with lieutenant Jee while his uncle tries to calm things down. The crew is used to it now. They nearly fought for real a few weeks ago, then made peace after the storm. But prince Zuko is still full of anger and quick to rise when things don’t go his way. And they rarely do, one has to admit. Iroh is making bad jokes about tea and the prince growls before turning on his heels and retreating to his quarters. The lieutenant sighs.

“I know it’s annoying, but admiral Zhao has every right to check on us.”

“He knows that.” Iroh says, putting his hands in his sleeves. “He will calm down once he’s gone. He was never fond of the man, but I’m sure he can behave.”

Jee nods absently and returns to his post. He doesn’t like Zhao more than Zuko does, to be honest. He’s also bothered by the man’s insistence on coming on their ship, bragging and taunting the banished prince. Zuko is always in a foul mood after his visits and they all suffer from it. He wishes the Prince would think of their situation too. They’re following him everywhere in that impossible quest and they all long for home, or at least for more interesting missions which wouldn’t be led by an angry teenager. He knows the story behind Zuko’s behaviour now. But it doesn’t make it easier to handle.

Zuko slams his door shut and throws his upper armour on the table without care. He sits at his meditation stall, but he knows it won’t do anything to calm him. No one understands. Even uncle Iroh doesn’t get the whole picture. It’s bad enough to have been banished and sent to chase a ghost -even if that ghost turned out to be alive and has crossed their paths several times. It’s hard to put up with the crew’s lack of motivation and the looks full of resentment. But he really could do without the sneers and open disdain from Admiral Zhao.

He remembers the first time he met him. He was eleven and Zhao had come to the palace for a meeting. Zuko, as usual, was trying to see what was happening and listening to whatever he could. He had nearly run into the man, stopping just in time. He had looked up to see the scowl of an angry-looking man towering over him, who had shooed him with an impatient gesture. Iroh had taken him by the shoulder and told him that the man was an important soldier. He had bowed and introduced himself, wondering how good the man was and if he would be as important as him one day. Zhao had barely looked at him, and had asked about his sister. He was used to people taking interest in Azula over him, but it still hurt every time. Since then, he had seen him a few more times, avoiding him. It doesn’t help that Zhao was in the meeting which sealed Zuko’s fate. He doesn’t remember, but he was probably there for the Agni Kai too.

He had to put up with him more after that. He hates how the man looks at him. His cruel smirk and his eyes fixed on his scar, never letting him forget it. Iroh tells him to let go and ignore him, but he can’t. He just wants to keep the little dignity he has left, is that too much too ask?

Zhao smiles when he the ship gets closer from them. It has been a few weeks since he hasn’t seen the young prince and he’s looking forwards to their encounter. He can’t get enough of riling up the angry boy. It’s so easy. He had never thought much of him before. There was nothing noticeable about him, unlike his sister, who has already mastered more skills than most adult firebenders. He had frankly thought the boy was a lost cause when he spoke out in that meeting. Then there was the Agni Kai. He had come to see some action, a lesson well-needed. He hadn’t expected that.

The boy had been pathetic of course, crying and begging, shamefully refusing to fight. But there was something appealing in that vision, which was confirmed when the sentence was delivered. Zhao felt a confusing emotion when the Fire Lord brought down his fuming hand to his son’s face. He hadn’t been able to pinpoint what exactly had taken his attention at first. He thought that maybe it was the first time he saw an Agni Kai ending this way, or maybe that the pained screams had been so distressed that it had made an impression on him. It was only a few days later that he understood. Once he had spent hours at night thinking of the wounded boy, of his anguished face, tears streaming down his cheeks, his small body shaking from pain then becoming limp from passing out. Once he had felt arousal spark in his groin at the memory and had brought himself to climax picturing himself in the Fire Lord’s place.

Since then, he was obsessed with the boy. He had watched him grow-up, becoming stronger and angrier, the scar on his face impossible to miss. It had disturbed him at the beginning. He had never been interested in men, and certainly not boys who were not of age yet. But Prince Zuko had that vulnerable air around him that just begged to be picked at. And he was so easy to anger that Zhao couldn’t help but taunting him every time they met. He couldn’t wait to make the boy submit to him.

“Admiral Zhao. How was your journey?” Iroh politely asked.

He had no love for the old man, but he respected him. There were few men who could pretend to be as strong as him. He had taken advice from him when he was younger and it had always paid off. However, today he was more of a bother to Zhao. The old man was glued to Zuko’s sides, which made it more difficult to approach him. The sulking young man bowed to him, avoiding his stare. He didn’t restrain himself and let his eyes take in the scowling face, the melted skin, the pouting mouth and the angry look. Oh how he wanted to touch that face, make him cry and beg for him.

“Uneventful. But I hope the festival will be worth the wait tonight.”

Zuko and his crew have stopped last night to see the Dragon festival, which has a great reputation in the Fire Nation. Not for nothing according to what they saw. He didn’t know the Admiral had an interest in those, or maybe he just wants to annoy them. Of course he does, Zuko bitterly thinks, trying to avoid the man’s eyes as much as he can without being impolite. He feels naked under his stare, as if he could see every fault in him. Not that he’s looking for anything else after all. The only one who ever says kind things to him is uncle Iroh and he’s not sure he’s totally honest all the time. He doesn’t want to be coddled (yes, he does, but since his mother is gone, he refuses it), he wants people to see his worth. Even though he’s beginning to think that he indeed has none.

When the sun sets, Zuko tells his uncle that he will stay in his room. He’s not in the mood to see jugglers and fireworks. Iroh makes a sad face but promises to buy him some spicy candied apples. He knows how his nephew is fond of them, even if he says he’s not a child anymore. The Admiral and his crew join Iroh and the others, and Zuko sighs in relief when he watches them disappear in the crowd. He takes a hot shower and meditates in a comfy pair of pants. He tries to purge the anger, like everyday. It never seems to work. The face of his father haunts him, and he remembers every look he has gotten when he woke up, bandages still on his face. The next ones hurt even more, because people pretend not to look at his scar but can’t help themselves. Their disgust and pity follow him everywhere. His fingers slide on the scarred skin, tracing the damage. He’s not vain, he doesn’t care about being beautiful, but it goes beyond that. He’s not only disfigured, he’s been marked as a coward, even if most people can’t know that. His hand goes to his shaved skull, another mark of shame. He’ll be allowed to let it grow again once he regains his honour, but for now…

He breathes slowly, and he doesn’t know how much time has passed when he hears the door opening. He’s nearly telling his uncle that he’s not interested in candied apples anymore, even if they both know it’s a lie, but he freezes once he sees who came into his chambers.

“What are you doing here ?” He blurts.

He feels cornered and Zhao smiles in a wicked way.

“Your uncle told me you weren’t feeling well. I hope you feel better.”

He’d love to say that he would feel better if he didn’t see his face, but if he learned one thing from his punishment, it’s that he can’t win with words when he faces someone who helps more power than him. He tries to stay calm and to relax his fingers, when all he wants to do is to take a fighting stance. Zhao steps into the room and it feels like he’s encircling him by himself. He puts a bottle on the table, a liquor that he certainly bought at the festival.

His plan worked and Zhao has to pace himself not to ruin it. There’s no one else on the ship and they won’t be back before hours. He savours the chase, like a predator playing with his prey. And what a beautiful prey, half-naked with his hair untied, shoulders tense with anger and wariness, and that scar. To be honest, it’s ugly. It’s burnt skin, melted and raw, and it takes nearly half of his face. But it makes him look like a wild and wounded animal, and Zhao wants to tame him.

“How’s the search going ?”

“You know exactly how it’s going.”

Zhao holds his hands in front of him in a fake apology.

“I brought some liquor. I heard you were partial to apples.”

He points the bottle and Zuko knows he’s stuck. He can’t refuse an invitation to drink with the Admiral. He finds two glasses, Zhao’s eyes following him, not leaving him even when he pours the liquid and gives a class to the prince.

“Careful. It’s strong.” His voice is on the edge of mockery.

“I’m not a child anymore.”

And he’s not, technically. He’s eighteen now. But he’s not used to drinking.

“Of course not, prince Zuko. Otherwise I would have brought candied apples.”

His smirk is infuriating and Zuko has to grab his glass tight to calm himself. The liquid burns his throat but he keeps a blank face. He has only drunk a few times and not much. He feels the buzz after the first glass. Zhao pours him another, and he has no choice but to accept it. The Admiral keeps babbling and staring at him and he does his best to act unaffected. It’s hard, because he can imagine what he must be thinking. That he’s a child, that he’s pathetic and that his scar is ugly in addition of being a mark of shame. He only wants him out of the way.

Zhao isn’t trying to pretend he’s not looking. The Prince has an odd beauty for a man – well, he’s a boy, really – but his features are delicate, only hardened by the scar and anger. He has a thin frame and a certain grace in the way he moves. He still has that innocence in him that his sister never had. An innocence that makes him want to take advantage of. He knows the prince isn’t used to drinking and he only offered to make him uncomfortable. It worked.

“I haven’t congratulated you for your birthday. It’s a shame you’re still banished.”

Zuko says nothing. The alcohol is getting to his head and anger is melting into sadness. His face is dropping and Zhao takes a step closer, putting a hand on the prince’s shoulder. He feels a tremor in the muscle but the boy doesn’t move. It’s the closest he ever got to be and the scar is even more impressive up close. It must have hurt so much. Zhao feels himself hardening in his pants.

“It’s been five years already. I remember it well.” He whispers.

His hand goes for the scar but the prince catches his wrist in a surprisingly steady grip, his eyes sending daggers at him.

“Don’t touch me.”

His cheeks are slightly flushed from the liquor but he’s still sharp.

“I’m not here to fight, prince Zuko.”

“Then what do you want?” Zuko spits, batting his hand away.

“Aren’t you tired of chasing the Avatar for nothing?”

“It’s not for nothing. My father…”

“You still think he wants you back.” Zhao interrupts, stepping forwards to crowd Zuko against the table. “You should have understood years ago. He doesn’t want you.” He emphasizes the last words and the prince’s eyes open wide, while his mouth drops open. “It’s been five years. It’s time to give up.”

Zuko’s eyes are wet and he turns his face away, hiding the scar, his shoulders tense and his hands curling into fists. Zhao bites his lip, his dick twitching with interest. Just a bit more…

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

The boy lifts his chin, but his voice is shaking. Zhao sweetens his voice.

“You could still find your place. I would welcome you on my ship.”

Zuko frowns, confused and he closes the distance, their noses almost touching.

“I could talk to your father.” He whispers. He cups Zuko’s chin, letting his fingers slide on the scarred cheek. “If you’re good…”

He’s quick. And Zuko is getting sluggish. He wraps his arms around his waist and kisses him.

Zuko is wondering if there was something else in that liquor, because what’s happening doesn’t make any sense. Maybe he’s hallucinating. But there’s a tongue in his mouth, a hard body pressed on his and arms solidly encircling his waist. He breaks the kiss by turning his head, but can’t get out of the grip.

“What are you doing?”

“Surely you’re not naïve enough to ignore those things, princeling. Or have you been so busy with the Avatar that you’re still a virgin ?”

Zhao kisses his mouth again, then goes to his neck, while his hands travel on his ass. His brain is slow and he knows he should fight him, but his limbs don’t seem to connect and Zhao’s mouth is sending weird shivers down his spine. Besides, he is a virgin, but there’s no way he’s going to say that aloud. Zhao’s hands are roaming his body and he tries to push at his shoulders. He understands now the meaning behind the Admiral's staring. It makes him sick. But at the same time, being embraced like that is not totally unpleasant. Since his mother is gone, no one hugs him anymore. His uncle would if only he let him, but he doesn’t want to act like a child, so he accepts the pats on his back but nothing else. He has been busy with the Avatar, yes. Before that, he was young and not interested yet. Since his banishment, he had other things to think of than sex. His body is now reminding him that he craves being touched and never mind if the provider is Zhao the Creep. His brain is slowed by the alcohol and his body reacts before him, skin erupting in goosebumps where Zhao’s lips are nipping at his neck and groin tingling at the sensation of having a hard thigh pressed against it.

“Are you gonna behave ? I’ll make it good for you if you let me.”

“I’m…I’m not your pet.”

He struggles against Zhao’s steel grip but it only makes him rub against him, pleasure awakening. A hand comes to tug harshly on his hair and he cries out.

“So pretty…”

Zhao pets his face, then kisses the scar and Zuko struggles more. The man has a weird obsession with his scar and it makes him uncomfortable.

“Get off me.”

“Why would I do that? You seem to enjoy it fine.” His thigh is still pressed against him and Zuko has no way to hide the erection caused by the sudden proximity. The older man moves his thigh and Zuko lets out a moan.

“See?” He murmurs in his ear, biting the shell. “Don’t worry, your beloved uncle won’t know about it. I can keep a secret.”

It’s amazing how the man can threaten him while pretending the contrary. It would be perfectly his style to mention it to Iroh if Zuko doesn’t give him what he wants. It’s despicable, but he’s not in the right state to fight him. And maybe, even if it’s a shame that can almost compare to his banishment, he’s curious. There are dozens of better men than Zhao, and that’s if he counts his crew only. But somehow, none of them would ever pay attention to him. It’s sick that he’s reduced to that. But he can’t help thinking that if he doesn’t take the opportunity now, he might never find someone willing to bed. Zhao’s twisted appreciation of his scar may be the only kind of acceptance he can get, because everyone else is too disgusted just by the look of it, never mind the idea of touching it.

So he lets Zhao kiss him and cup his crotch. He lets him push him on his bed and looks away while the man gets rid of his armour. The Admiral never stops looking at him, gleefully enjoying his compliance. Zuko’s conflicted. He doesn’t want to like it but he does and a part of him wants to enjoy himself and let go for once. But he knows he chose the worst person possible for that. He’s not good at making the right choices. Zhao takes place between his legs, hovering above him. His mouth latches on his scar while he strokes the soft skin under him.

“I always wondered what he felt…” Zhao says to himself.

Zuko’s head is still spinning and he’s grateful for it because he has an excuse for this situation. He can tell himself that he’s too drunk to know what he’s doing. If he believed in his own lies that is. He refuses to look at Zhao, struggling for the sake of it. He can’t give it all to him.

“Finally.”

Slick fingers prob his entrance and he tenses. He hadn’t noticed the bottle of oil in the Admiral’s hand. He wonders how long the man had been thinking of that. He probably doesn’t want to know. Zhao spread his thighs, lining up his slicked cock with the tight hole. He takes the time to jerk Zuko off, making him squirm from pleasure before pushing in. He’s not gentle about it. Zuko cries out, trying to get away from the painful intrusion but Zhao is steadily sinking in, pinning him down with both hands. It hurts and his eyes water again. Zhao smiles at him, kissing his tears and stroking his hair.

“You’re hurting me.”

“Am I?”

The bastard has the audacity to laugh and begins to thrust, carving his way into his insides. The burn is shooting through his body and he weakly tries to push him away. What was he thinking ? He should have ordered him to leave his cabin since the beginning.

Zhao feels like a conqueror. It’s as delightful as winning a battle, when the enemies surrender. Zuko’s body is warm and pliant despite his half-hearted struggle and the way he cries reminds him of that day. The Prince is letting out pained cries and it’s music to his ears.

“You want me to go slower?”

“Yes!”

“Then beg.” He spits, driving his hips forward. The Prince shoots him a dark look but it’s not really frightening, not when he’s rocked back and forth like a ragdoll on his cock, cheeks wet and hands weak on Zhao’s shoulders. The boy shakes his head, biting his lip and closing his eyes. It’s cute how he thinks he can still win this fight. He flattens a palm over the scarred eye and heats it a little. The reaction is immediate.

“No ! Please, don’t ! Please, stop! No!”

He’s thrashing now and Zhao laughs. He’s not gonna burn the kid, but he can’t know that. The prince is panicking, clenching tightly around him and it’s so good that he keeps his hand where it is for a while.

“Please, please, please… You can do whatever you want, but stop that.”

He can feel wetness under his palm and the boy is openly sobbing, hands clawing at Zhao’s arm. Ah. There it is. What he has been looking forward since the Agni Kai. Seeing the prince break again, begging and hurting, but for him this time. The Fire Lord didn’t take the time to appreciate the moment, he’s sure. A shame. But Zhao knows the value of what’s happening in his arms and he’s gonna savour it.

“Shh. I’m not gonna hurt you.”

He removes his hand and slows down, taking the prince’s cock in hand, softened by fear and pain. He gives it long strokes, his other hand stroking his hip bone. The boy gradually calms down, his body limp but still breathing quickly. He’s hardening and he must be getting used to the penetration, because Zhao can feel his guts softening, opening up for him and allowing him deeper.

“The Fire Lord made a mistake. I’m not gonna do the same. I’m gonna teach you where your place is for good. Pain is only the first step, but the next one will make sure the lesson sticks.”

He doesn’t know if Zuko is listening, but he knows he’s beginning to enjoy it, according to his hips bucking minutely to accentuate the friction. Hurting the boy for real is not the point. No. He wants to own him, to be the first to pleasure him, so he can never forget Zhao. Roughing him up is only to make him understand who’s in command. Well, he doesn’t know who he’s trying to fool. He does it because it’s fun and it gives him a rush of power.

Zuko is still shaking from shock. Zhao’s the worst kind of man and he can’t believe he let himself get into this mess. The man is twisted and cruel, reenacting how his father burned his face. The extreme distress he felt that day never totally left him and having it triggered again is way too brutal. Tears are running down his cheeks, wetting the sheets and quenching Zhao’s thirst for his suffering. On the other hand, the pain in his backside subsided, and it seems the man is not actively trying to puncture his stomach anymore. When his breathing comes back to a more normal state, he notices Zhao’s hand on his dick. It’s good, and his body craves the pleasure, desperate to feel something other than pain. He moans at a particular twist of the older man's wrist. There’s a spark of pleasure suddenly and he cries out in surprise, lifting himself on his forearms as if he could see what was happening inside him, where Zhao’s cock is nestled.

“Aw, found your sweet spot, my prince?”

“Wha...”

Zhao takes his hips with both hands and raises them, impaling him on his length. Zuko is panting, moaning because fuck. Fuck, it’s good, why is it so good ? He fucks back on the Admiral while the man puts his hands back on his face.

“That’s it. Let me in.”

He doesn’t get it. His brain is all over the place and nothing makes sense. His body doesn’t stop betraying him and he can’t say what he wants anymore. He both want to run away as far as possible from Zhao and to melt under the man’s hands. He knows he should choose the first option but of course, it’s the second one that wins. His tears are drying, replaced by precum leaking from his slit, dripping on his belly.

“Please.”

He doesn’t even know what he’s asking for. He only knows that at the moment, Zhao is the only thing keeping him grounded, even if he’s also the one who’s breaking him.

“I should have done that much sooner had I known you would like it so much. And to think I’m the first one to spread your legs.”

He’d like to deny, but he has always been bad at lying. The Admiral slumps on him, covering him with his larger and heavier body, guiding his thighs around his waist. His mouth attacks the side of his face, lips sliding on the ruined skin. He lets him, too focused on the fire building in his belly. The slide in his ass is maddening, and he feels the head of Zhao’s cock rubbing that spot everytime. His legs are shaking and he can’t stop his moans, which are getting louder and desperate. His hands are clutching Zhao’s back and he would retch at the idea of such an intimate position if he wasn’t too far gone to notice. He never felt a pleasure like that.

“I should ask the Fire Lord to give you to me. What do you think ? I’d keep you in my bed and you won’t have to worry about the Avatar anymore.”

He’s pounding into him, slapping sounds echoing in the room, mixed with heavy breathing.

“What would he say if he could see you now ? Being deflowered and moaning like a common whore.”

The words are cutting but in his state, they don’t really hit home. Not like they should. Shame is creeping up along pleasure and it’s a strange mix. Somehow, it fuels his arousal. He shouldn’t get turned on by imagining his father catching him being fucked by one of his admirals. He shouldn’t be turned on at being fucked by Zhao at all, but here he is, on the verge of orgasm, submitting to a man he hates. He finally looks at Zhao in the eyes and he wants to be angry at him but the man buries himself deep in him and it’s too much, too much, he’s gonna explode. The older man is smirking at him, triumphant.

“Maybe I should tell your crew what they need to do to put you in your place. Heard they are quite displeased with that attitude of yours, you should make it up to them.”

He’s licking his scar and it’s disgusting but he’s at his breaking point and if he doesn’t come now, he’s gonna lose it. He tries to get a hand on his dick but Zhao bats his hand away, taking his wrists and pinning them down above his head.

“You’ll cum on my cock or not at all.”

He whines, desperate. It’s too much but not enough and he’s crying again.

“Make me cum, please.”

“So polite. You’re finally learning something.”

He slides out and Zuko groans at the loss but Zhao flips him over and flattens him on his stomach, before plunging again in him, widening his legs with his own, a hand on his nape. The new angle pulls him even deeper in him and the unmarked side of his face is mashed into the mattress. Zhao's thrusts are harsh and it feels like his insides are getting rearranged. He feels the orgasm building, his balls crushed under his own weight tightening. He’s moaning uncontrollably, sobbing and when it hits, it’s violent. His body is wrecked by spasms, pleasure exploding and he’s seeing stars. Zhao doesn’t stop and his climax stretches, giving a pleasure he couldn’t have imagined. When the waves of pleasure subside, he’s aware of lips still on his face and his ass still being plowed. It’s becoming painful but his limbs are limp and heavy, and he thinks he has never felt this relaxed. All the tension in his muscles is gone and he feels like he’s floating.

Zhao finally stopped talking, grunting while his thrusts are becoming uncoordinated. He buries himself deep, shaking, then gives a few slow strokes before collapsing on Zuko's back. The prince is slowly coming back to his senses, his mind cleared from the alcohol and from the arousal. He takes notice of the sweat of their bodies, soaking the sheets, of the heaviness of Zhao’s body, his hot breath on his neck, of the pulsing length still impaling him. The cloud numbing his mind is letting place to a burning shame and sense of defeat. How is he gonna face Zhao after that ? 

“Nice to know you’re good for something. I could get used to it.” The admiral laughs in his ear and caresses his hip.

There’s a lump in his throat and he doesn’t try to talk back because he’s only going to embarrass himself further. Zhao’s pawing is possessive and rough, and he’s sure he’s gonna bruise, if he’s not already. The older man slides out and he feels cum trickling down. He doesn’t move when Zhao gets dressed. The phantom feeling of the man’s cock in him makes him want to puke.

“Thanks for the drink, my prince, I really enjoyed it.” He’s smug, and Zuko doesn’t need to see his face to know he’s smiling like a wolf.

“Get out.” He manages to spit.

The man complies, laughing. The door is loud when it closes and Zuko shouts in his pillow. His uncle is right. He never thinks through his decisions.

**Author's Note:**

> Just to be clear, Zuko is hard on himself. It's rape, even if he goes along.


End file.
